


Numb

by ubiquitous_octagon



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Connor Needs A Hug, Fainting, Nightmares, References to Drugs, Too much coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubiquitous_octagon/pseuds/ubiquitous_octagon
Summary: Set after the events of season one:Connor starts having nightmares causing him to lose sleep. This combined with other events leads to him fainting at work.
Relationships: Oliver Hampton/Connor Walsh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Numb

There wasn't enough time in the world. With the nightmares there wasn't enough time to get sleep. It's hard to live in a state where every time you close your eyes you see Sam's dead, lifeless body oozing blood onto the hardwood floor- his head cracked open like an egg, sickening bloody yolk leaking and staining the ground. The dull thump as Pax's bones snapped and his body went cold and it was all his fault, all his fault. It's hard to sleep when he keeps screaming himself awake, shaking and breathless, his heart leaping out of his chest. Oliver's concerned face worrying over him, he didn't deserve the pity.

Annalise keeps acting as if nothing changed. She keeps the same routine, taking case after case after case. And there he was. All the expectations that he should be able to keep up; act like his brain wasn't torturing him every minute of every day. Like he wasn't being haunted by what he did. The others seemed almost fine, albeit jittery but not like him. Couldn't they feel the suffocating guilt.

"Are you okay?" Michaela questioned one day out of the blue.

𝘕𝘰, 𝘯𝘰 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 he wanted to scream but couldn't, he had to act in control or maybe Annalise would order Frank to suffocate him for being a risk. He smiled tightly and gave a partially true excuse about not sleeping. Michaela didn't believe him, he could tell. She obviously had more pressing matter to attend though as she went back to her work as if nothing happened.

He started to take adderall with his coffee in the mornings just to stay alert. Sleeping becoming an almost impossible task and the lack of it numbing his brain. He needed it to think. Hidden in the mint tin in his coat pocket they sat, innocently. It was all fine, he just needed them for the time being. To help him study as the looming exams approached, to win the current case they were working on and not ruin this person's life too. He used adderall before, to help with exams and block the all-encompassing exhaustion that stood side by side with studying. It was typical for law students to take stimulants to aid with thought, this was normal.

He increased his dose. One not being enough to sustain him for the day. He had ten pills left, ten pills rattling around in the old mint tin. His dealer was out of town for ten days too. A crushing fear overwhelmed him like a wave leaving him drenched with dread. He could do it. An extra cup of coffee and he would be fine.

One pill remained. The Keating 5 were called into Annalise's to help with a case. One about a murder tied in with a sex-scandal. Lovely. He wondered what psychopathic killer he would have to defend today. The constant back and forth of ideas left them at the decision this was going to be an all-nighter. He got the witness reports.

Five hours and a pile of chaotic files in, he could feel the last of the adderall melting from his body. His hands started trembling and his thoughts scrambled, he couldn’t think. A tiredness buried deep in his bones and his brain felt like it was wading through molasses. He turned back to his work, he needed to find something or he would be seen as useless. It felt every failure of his was used to mock him. He had to prove his worth, worth that was his intelligence, not his ability to fuck information out of people. Keep reading, keep going and don't stop to you drop.

The words on the page started to merge together and a sickness settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Noises filtered in to his brain.

"Connor, you okay?" A voice reverberated around his skull. He cringed, too loud, too loud, too loud. He stumbled up, proving he was okay, proving he could stand. He threw a dopey smile at the voice, ' the voice', haha, maybe he was dying and he could hear The Devil coming to take his soul. His vision swam. A kaleidoscope of colours flashed, beautiful in their explosions, and sent off multitudes of sirens in his brain. Voices screamed at him bloody murder as he reached out with his arm with a blind hope it would find stability. The colour suddenly plunging into black as he fell into the pits of Hell. 

His body lie limp and pale in Laurel's arms, she just grabbed him in time, he had better be thankful. She stood still trying to figure out what had happened. Connor had been okay. Yes, a little pale and shaky, but she just assumed that as normal due to what they had been through. How had they not known it was this bad? After all they had been through how could they know each other so little. Frank's baritone ordering Michaela to phone an ambulance snapped her out of her musings and into the panicked atmosphere of the room. She took a breath.

Waking up from passing out is usually portrayed as beautiful. A calm process as the world slowly filters into your reality again. A light seeping through the dark. For Connor, it was Hell. Like a tsunami crashing, he snapped to awareness out of the comforting bliss of being numb. He chanted in inaudible mumbles for The Devil to take him back, he wanted to get what he deserved. This world was only full of dark to corrupt him, thoughts of Sam and Pax and he wanted them gone. No more Annalise or Frank. No more fucking murder, just atonement. But he was ripped from unconscious. Even his own brain found him fucking repulsive.

Thoughts of pain, hurt and panic filled him to the brim yet he lay still, catatonic on the pale hospital bed. He ached to be unfeeling again. 

He awoke to the glistening eyes of Oliver's concern. An angel amongst all that hate, he couldn't be with him. Oliver would end up corrupt and dirty like him. He turned his back to Oliver and gazed numbly at the blank white wall.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is a mess~ I sometimes get so muddled in what I’m writing and hopefully it makes sense. Also, apparently Connor’s name is spelt with two ‘n’s’ which doesn’t make sense to me so sorry if I mistyped there~ Comment and kudos are greatly appreciated!!


End file.
